


Stability

by BoxOnTheNile



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, i already posted today wtf me, nile is back on their bullshit and their bullshit is rarepairs, tucknut exists to fuck with people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: “Oh, hold on there, hot stuff. Tucker and Donut got real intimate before they got inside each other and made me. I’m certainly more stable than thedisasteryou made three months ago.” They had to hold his attention for another few minutes, then they could grab Grif and Simmons and run. Nothing wrong with ending a scene early if someone got hurt. “It’s less water to hydrate one fusion than two soldiers, you know? My record is four days. How long has Lolix ever held together?"





	Stability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AntsySerpentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntsySerpentine/gifts).



> I talked about this fusion as a possibility at three am this morning and _Sam encouraged a sleep deprived me._

Supply hit-and-runs typically went like this: a squad would pick a base, either Fed or NR, and sweep it clean, until everything they could possibly use was loaded into one of several Pelicans, and then they would blow the base the fuck up and haul everything back to Armonia.

Standard protocol was every squad had at least one pair that could fuse on a moment’s notice, which was why Tucker had to listen to Grif and Simmons bicker quietly the whole way, making visor contact with Donut across the Pelican and tilting his helmet. Donut’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

 

****DNT: they never stop, do they?** **

****TKR: fuck no how do they get anything done** **

****DNT: it’s part of their charm! °3°** **

****TKR: how the FUCK do you do emoticons over helmet chat goddamn** **

****DNT: that’s part of MY charm** **

 

Tucker snorted. Wash elbowed him.

“If you would actually make an effort, we wouldn’t have to take them everywhere,” Wash said over the Blue Team radio channel, and Tucker blew a raspberry.

“You’re just pissy because we haven’t been able to recreate Washer. I make plenty of effort.”

“ _You’re_ just bitter because Caboose and I fuse easier than you.”

Tucker glared at him, then stood up and crossed to sit next to Donut.

 

****DNT: what was that? :0** **

****TKR: dont worry about it** **

****TKR: wsh is just a dick when hes stressed** **

****TKR: and cbs is still in medical** **

****DNT: caboose will be fine! nothing seems to keep him down for long. owo** **

****TKR: dont uwu me i will die instantly** **

****DNT: uwu** **

 

God, Tucker had missed Donut. Wash didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but the two of them had agreed- the others didn’t need to know.

“Touchdown in ten,” the pilot called back.

“Thank you, Briggs,” Simmons said.

 

****WSH: I’m sorry.** **

****TKR: whatever its fine** **

 

Of course, everything went to shit. Halfway through loading up, one of the cadets radio’d an SOS for half a second before it cut out and Grif took a bullet to the shoulder a heartbeat later. There was a glimpse of sage and grey that disappeared instantly.

“We’re leaving!” Tucker shouted, running to help Simmons drag Grif into cover. A spray of bullets from a pirate peppered the ground that they just vacated.

“We need the ammunition,” Wash yelled back. “We’re almost done, we need Grimmons-”

“Not happening, Grif is down! Bug out!”

“Tucker!”

Tucker peered around his corner to see where Donut was hunkered behind a burned-out Warthog. “We have another fusion,” he said.

Tucker swore. “Wash, how much time do you need?”

“Five minutes. Tucker, what-”

“I can guarantee three,” Tucker cut him off, and lunged out of cover to reach for Donut’s outstretched arm. A sniper round lanced through the space that once held Tucker’s chest.

Tucknut laughed, relishing in existence for the moment they could spare. “Locus, baby, you’re gonna have to try a little _harder_ than that!”

“Oh my god,” they heard Simmons choke.

“Shoot me again,” Grif said.

Tucknut laughed again. They felt a little shakier than usual, half of them less confident than before, but there was still a soul-deep belief that things would be fine.

They promised three minutes.

Gracefully, they vaulted the Warthog and drove their hot sword into one of the pirates trying to inch closer, rolling neatly back into cover before Locus could line up another shot. “What’s wrong, Loc? Need a breather? Happens to the best of us, baby, some people only have one good hit in them.”

“I want to __die__ ,” Grif groaned.

Tucknut tossed the rim of a Warthog tire and watched the chestplate of another pirate’s armor crumple with the force. Oh, fuck yes, they still had it. “Washington, how are you doing? About to finish?”

“Close- I mean!” Washington’s voice shot up several notes. “Just another minute!”

They bit back the catchphrase that sat on their tongue- leaving him flustered like this was so much more fun.

_I knew it was on purpose!_

Their radio buzzed as Locus broadcasted. “Give up. You can’t remain stable long.”

“Oh, hold on there, hot stuff. Tucker and Donut got real intimate before they got inside each other and made me. I’m certainly more stable than the _disaster_ you made three months ago.” They had to hold his attention for another few minutes, then they could grab Grif and Simmons and run. Nothing wrong with ending a scene early if someone got hurt. “It’s less water to hydrate one fusion than two soldiers, you know? My record is four days. How long has Lolix ever held together?"

They heard a bullet strike the rock they were behind. Good, they struck a nerve, and Locus was notoriously single-minded. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you too busy pining after Washington to notice the rest of us? I can’t say I blame you, he is very pretty in a rugged, ‘stabs as a warning’ kind of way, but I still expected better from a perfect soldier.”

“Done,” Wash said over a private channel. “Fall back.”

Tucknut judged the space between their hiding place the base entrance where Simmons was keeping pressure on Grif’s bullet wound. Wash was on the other side of the base. If they unfused and refused as they went, they’d be actually intangible for most of the distance, but they’d never tried that- it was supposed to be impossible without years of training and trust. Not even Grimmons could do it.

_I can. I have to._

And wasn’t that how Tucknut had come to be in the first place? Desperation and necessity and a whole lot of luck?

They dove, and Tucker and Donut hit the ground in another near-perfect combat roll. Two sprinted steps and they grabbed each other again, praying-

Tucknut slammed into the wall just past the door. “I did it,” he said. “I did it!” They scooped Grif up and slung him over their shoulder. “Time to go!”

Minutes later, they leaned out of the Pelican and waved just before they blew the charges in the base.

They came apart with a conscious choice, and Donut pulled off his helmet, grinning at Tucker. Tucker pulled off his own helmet and returned the smile before they both broke into giddy, excited giggles.

“We still got it!” Tucker crowed, and Donut cheered.

* * *

“You kept a stable, combat-capable fusion a _secret_?” Kimball yelled. Tucker and Donut stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Yep!” Donut said. “Tucknut is… well, they are combat-capable, but that doesn’t mean combat-ready. Mostly they just like to mess with people?”

“How did they even- when did you even-” Doyle gestured at them.

“Limited resources and a whole lot of trouble,” Tucker answered. “And it wasn’t easy, okay? It took weeks before we even managed anything _unstable_. But we didn’t- we didn’t have much of a choice.” He bumped his shoulder into Donut’s. “Locus and Felix aren’t the first people on Charon’s payroll that’ve tried to kill us. They aren’t even the first to try and kill us by starving us out.”

“We agreed,” Donut said, “that Tucknut was personal. They exist because there was no other options. We wanted to wait until we actually had a choice.”

“And you didn’t this time,” Kimball said softly. “I understand.”

“Oh, we had a choice,” Tucker said. “It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t life-or-death. But we- or, well, Tucknut- decided that, yeah. Add us to the list.”

Kimball dismissed them, and once they were in the hall, Donut reached out to lace their fingers together.

Tucker looked down at their joined hands. “Are you-?”

“Yeah. Unless?”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, after everything,” he admitted, and Donut snorted.

“You Blues and your _drama_ ,” he said, and pressed a kiss to Tucker’s cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Couple personal headcanons in this one? Biggest is Tucker and Donut were stationed at Sandtrap together and that the whole dig was funded by Charon. Sounds like something they would do.


End file.
